


Watching Snails with Toes in the Ground

by octopus_fool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cats, F/F, Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, Fluff, Pets, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Minerva McGonagall may be a teacher with all her heart, but eventually, her enthusiasm and energy for the job wanes. When Pomona mentions retirement, the thought won't leave her head. But retirement brings its own challenges…





	Watching Snails with Toes in the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Very late for the Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge for April. The prompt was "Changes".

It was not something Minerva would have admitted, not even to herself. But the truth was that she was starting to feel the strain of the job getting to her. The little challenges of running the school tugged on her nerves more than they should have and her patience was starting to run thin.  
After a particularly trying day, Pomona paused in the shoulder massage she was giving Minerva and quietly said the words that would worm their way into Minerva’s mind. 

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” 

“You know the school board meeting is next week and I need to have the report prepared before then, the numbers for…”

Pomona walked around the sofa and settled onto it next to Minerva. “I’m not talking about the meeting. I’m talking about the job. You’re old enough to start thinking about retirement, we both are.”

“I owe it to Albus to keep Hogwarts running. I gave him my word to rebuild it if I got the chance to, though I doubt he knew how thoroughly it would have to be rebuilt.”

Pomona rolled her eyes. “Yes, and you did. You rebuilt it and you improved it. You are not bound to the school for life. I just thought you might need a little reminder of that.”

“Thank you, but I’m still perfectly happy working.” Minerva paused. “I’m sorry, I am making this all about myself again. Do _you_ wish to retire?”

“I’d be happy either way. I wouldn’t mind working a few more years, but if you wanted to retire, I would too. Neville is more than capable of running the herbology department on his own and I think the board would happily confirm Filius if you suggested him as headmaster. It’s all up to what we decide we want for ourselves.”

She leaned into Minerva’s side and Minerva wrapped an arm around her. 

 

They spoke no more of the topic that evening, but whenever Minerva found herself dealing with overprotective parents, Peeves or yet another wave of dungbomb detonations, the sentence rang in her mind. _You don’t have to do this anymore._

And when the day came that she found herself taking a deep breath to yell at a first-year for crying about a failed transfiguration, she knew. She took another deep breath. 

“Here, have a tissue and another fork, Miss Breckenridge. I’m sure you’ll do better on your next try. Remember to keep your pronunciation clear and your wand movements precise. Alright?” 

The first-year nodded, and Minerva moved back to her desk. With her back to the class, she briefly closed her eyes. Yes, it was time. 

 

That evening, after dealing with the paperwork of a student having been injured by an exploding cauldron and a muggle-style brawl between two fifth-years about Godric-knows-what, Minerva dropped onto the sofa beside Pomona.

“I think it’s time to leave.”

Pomona looked up from the piece of wood she was whittling into an animal for her niece’s daughters and Minerva saw understanding dawn in her face. Pomona put aside the piece of wood and her knife and pulled Minerva into her arms.

“It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? I heard about the explosion and the brawl from the students.”

Minerva nodded against her shoulder, breathing in the earthy scent that followed Pomona around. “That’s not the worst of it. I almost yelled at a crying first-year. That’s not the kind of teacher I want to be.” Minerva sighed. “But that was just the final straw.”

Pomona nodded. “It has been a long time coming, hasn’t it? I can’t say I’m not looking forward to planting a garden without keeping any pedagogical aspects in mind though.”

Minerva laughed. “We’ll have to start looking for a little house by a Scottish loch.”

“No, for one in Cork, or maybe in Kerry,” Pomona retorted with a grin, falling into their old argument.

“We’ll see,” Minerva said, already knowing who would win.

Their cat jumped onto their sofa and turned around a few times until he settled into a position between them that was comfortable for his stiff joints. 

“Smervie More won’t like having to move, will you, old boy?” Pomona said, coaxing rumbling purrs from him by rubbing his cheek.

“Probably not, though he’ll most likely be happy to have fewer cats around,” Minerva agreed, leaning back and surprising herself by falling asleep.

 

She had wanted this. And now she was sitting on a bench and watching Pomona plant herbs into the Irish soil and prune the hedges that had been part of the reason for buying this particular house. It was what she had wanted to do, but she had done the same thing yesterday, and the day before that. The sad highlights of the day had been going on a walk to the coast that morning and hanging the new curtains. 

But now, she was here in the garden again, watching Pomona being completely in her element and feeling so very out of hers.  
She flicked the large snail crawling on the low wall next to the bench over towards Smervie More in hopes of making him jump after it, but he just blinked and looked at her disdainfully. Minerva sighed. She should have known he wouldn’t fall for that like he had when he was a young kitten. 

Pomona looked up at Minerva, apparently having heard her sigh. “Oh, Minerva dear. Try to grow roots, it helps.” 

“I’m not one of your plants, you know.” It came out harsher than Minerva had meant it to, but she suddenly felt she could neither deal with the hurt look on Pomona’s face by apologising nor face an argument. And so she stood up and left, shutting the door to their house behind her with a little more force than necessary. 

 

Minerva had done all the dishes and swept the floor twice by the time Pomona came inside. Some of her steam had blown off and guilt was rising more and more the longer she was pottering about. 

As soon as Minerva heard the door open, she hurried over.

“I’m sorry, Pomona. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m sorry too. I know you aren’t happy and I didn’t want to make it worse. I just think you would be more content if you found something to focus your energy on.”

“I never really thought much about what I would do in retirement. Retirement never even crossed my mind until you mentioned it and I can barely remember a time when I wasn’t teaching. I am trying to come up with something to do, but I’m just not finding anything that is as fulfilling as Hogwarts was.”

“Maybe you could see if they need any help at the shelter in town? I doubt the dogs would react any differently to you than any other dogs, but I’m sure someone who is unexplainably good with the difficult cats would be more than welcome there.”

Minerva nodded. “That does sound like an idea. I’ll look into that.”

Pomona leaned her head against Minerva’s shoulder. “I know it’s not a perfect solution, but I do hope it’s at least a start. I do want you to be happy, you know.”

“I know, and I really am sorry I am putting a shadow on your happiness. I’m afraid I become rather selfish when I’m unhappy.” Minerva paused, pressed a kiss onto Pomona’s hair and then trailed kisses down her neck. “How about I try to at least partially make up for that, my pumpkin?” She whispered.

Pomona laughed. “In the middle of the day? I hadn’t thought your boredom was quite that bad.”

Minerva shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “We have to see the good sides of it, don’t we?”

“Very true, my beanstalk,” Pomona replied and leaned up to kiss Minerva in turn.

 

“Pomona?” Minerva asked, trying not to sound too guilty as she manoeuvred the cat carrier through the door.

“In the kitchen! Let’s see the new family member then.”

“You knew?” Minerva asked as she carried the young cat into the kitchen.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely certain, but I was expecting you wouldn’t walk out of that shelter on your own. So who have you got there?”

She peered into the cat carrier at the scrawny black cat and was greeted by a loud wail.

“That’s quite a voice you’ve got there. He or she?”

“She. They aren’t sure what she went through, but the poor thing was absolutely terrified of people, far more than would be usual for a feral cat. She immediately took to me though and she didn’t want me to go again, screaming as though she was being tortured when I left her and went to another room. She only stopped when I returned half an hour later. Of course, it isn’t a permanent adoption yet, I wanted to see if you two are alright with each other first and if she gets along with Smervie More.”

“Does she have a name yet?” 

Minerva shook her head and the cat screeched. “They hadn’t been able to decide on one.”

Pomona gave the cat a critical look. “She’s a proper little banshee, isn’t she? I think Beansidhe would fit quite well.”

Minerva laughed. “Yes, that’s the perfect name for her, thank you.”

“So when do you want to let our little Beansidhe out of her box?”

“Well let’s give it a try now. I’ll tell you when to open the carrier.”

Minerva transformed into her Animagus form and hopped onto Pomona’s lap to show Beansidhe that she was harmless. Minerva meowed at Pomona, who opened the carrier.

Beansidhe ducked at the back of the carrier but soon came out to rub heads with Minerva. She looked at Pomona sceptically, then came over to sniff at her hand, before flopping down to lie next to her feet.

“That went better than expected,” Minerva said with a smile when she transformed back and Beansidhe hurried to climb into her lap. “Now we just have to see what Smervie More says.”

As it turned out, they needn’t have worried. Smervie More hissed at Beansidhe when he saw her, but before long, he was patiently serving as a jungle gym for her. And when evening fell, Minerva and Pomona found them cuddled up together on the sofa.

 

Minerva dug her toes into the earth while she read. It was a silly attempt at trying to take “growing roots” literally, but it was more relaxing than she had thought it would be. Not that she lacked relaxation. She still had more of it than she could wish for, even though the morning walk to the sea had become something of a daily habit. They had also taken to going down to the village pub at least once a week for a drink and sometimes some dancing. Yesterday evening they had struggled to keep straight faces as they heard someone referring to them as “those two witches from the old house on the hill”.

Minerva let the magazine she was reading sink and looked at the snail on the low wall next to the bench. She picked it up, examined it and glanced at the magazine again. 

“Pomona? Have you ever heard of the Celtic sparking snail?”

“It’s quite rare, but it is said to be able to produce light under certain conditions, some of them are even able to emit sparks. A component in its slime might provide a treatment for lycanthropy, or at least an important clue to finding one. Why?”

“I was just reading this old article on them when I noticed the image of it is surprisingly similar to the snails that live in our old garden wall. Of course, I’m no expert in zoology, leave alone snails...”

Pomona had put down her pruning shears and made her way over to Minerva and the snail, nearly stumbling over Beansidhe in the process. She too looked between the image in the article and the snail. 

“The image is not particularly good,” Pomona pointed out, muttering under her breath as she scanned the article for more information. “Look, it says here that the best way to recognise Celtic sparking snails is by watching them under the light of the full moon, since slow waves of phosphorescent light run through them then.”

“That’s not going to do us any good right now,” Minerva pointed out, “the full moon was two days ago. But this here might be useful: ‘There are three short hairs in each of the grooves on the underside of the snail.’”

“I never thought snails would have hair,” Pomona commented, holding the snail at arm’s length and squinting at it. “It’s no good, I’m going to fetch the magnifying glass.”

“Don’t bother,” Minerva said with a grin. She took her tea saucer, waved her wand and turned the saucer into a slightly old-fashioned magnifying glass. 

Pomona rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t like it when you do that with my mother’s porcelain.”

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin, you know I’ll return it to exactly the state it used to be in.”

“I rather hope you will, for your own sake,” Pomona said with a long-suffering sigh. 

Minerva smiled at her and handed her the magnifying glass with a slight flourish. 

Pomona looked through it, turning the snail between her fingers. “Yes, I think I can see three hairs in each groove, though I think someone with more expertise and better eyes should take a look.”

Minerva examined the snail as well and nodded. “I agree, it does look like it, but you’re right, it would probably be best to let an expert take a look.”

“Maybe we could send it to Professor Lovegood,” Pomona suggested. “I’m not sure how firm her knowledge on snails is, but she would at least know who to ask if she can’t solve the little riddle. Let’s send Ogma as soon as it gets dark.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking of paying Hogwarts a visit and I could give it and maybe one or two others to her myself. She is still teaching while Jacana is on maternity leave, isn’t she?”

“I think so. When do you plan to go?”

“I think maybe tomorrow morning. Would you like to come along?”

Pomona considered for half a moment and then shook her head. “I still have to divide the moon-leafed houndstalk and I currently don’t really have the desire to go visit Hogwarts. Unless you want me to come?”

“There’s no need to. I just want to pay Filius a brief visit and show Luna the snails.”

 

Hogwarts was just like it had always been, Minerva thought as she walked through the corridors and greeted some of the portraits. The scent of old stone, ink and a faint hint of fire was the one she had called home for most of her life. 

Minerva was just about to turn nostalgic when the doors of the classrooms opened and she found herself being swept along in a stream of students. Some of the older students greeted her while the first-years eyed her curiously in passing. Just as suddenly as the whole thing had started, it ended again, students disappearing into their next classrooms in gaggles, their laughter and chatter fading to a dim echo behind the closing doors. Minerva wondered if this was how ghosts felt. 

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Miss Tracombe?” Minerva marvelled at how quickly she felt herself falling into her old roll and that she was still able to put a name to the voice immediately.

“What a surprise seeing you here! How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you. And yourself? I see you’ve been made prefect this year. Congratulations.”

“Thank you! A few of us older students started a transfiguration club, to get some additional practice but mostly to take a look at some things that are beyond the curriculum.”

“Oh, that’s nice! What have you been doing so far?”

Tracombe shrugged and fiddled with the end of her green scarf. “That’s the problem, actually. We discussed a few things and tried out partial human transfiguration, but then we kind of lost direction. We’re all rather interested in transfiguration obviously, but there are just so many things to look at that we can’t decide what to focus on and what might be within our capabilities. I was wondering if you could perhaps suggest a few things or maybe even come to one of our meetings? I’d ask Professor Nutmeg, but he is rather busy trying to teach the basics to the firsties, there seem to be quite a few of them that are rather slow on the uptake and he already had to start a remedial transfiguration course. And Professor Harrelson is quite busy as the new head of Hufflepuff, so I don’t think there’s much use in asking her either.”

Minerva nodded. “I’ll think about it. At the very least, I’ll send you an owl with some suggestions.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful! Have a nice day and send my regards to Professor Sprout too!”

“I will. Have a nice day as well!”

 

Pomona was in the garden when Minerva returned, just like Minerva had expected. She was pulling up weeds at the back of the garden, Beansidhe chasing after each weed Pomona tossed onto the ground behind her while Smervie More watched over them from the wall as a rheumatic protector.  
He was the first to spot Minerva and got up, stretched and jumped onto the ground next to Pomona with a thud, alerting her to Minerva’s presence. 

“Oh, you’re back already! How did it go, my beanstalk?”

“I think I’ll go back to teaching.”

The look on Pomona’s face was priceless. “Are you sure? I thought...”

“Oh, don’t worry! Not like that, not fulltime. It would only be about two hours once a week. Some of the older students started a Transfiguration club but are lacking inspiration. They asked me if I might give them some ideas or maybe join them on occasion, but I think I’d enjoy getting a little more involved with that, if they agree to it.”

Relief spread across Pomona’s face as Minerva was speaking. “That sounds wonderful! I doubt they would mind you getting a little more involved than they had originally thought, especially if these are the students that I’d guess are organising it. This sounds like just the right project for you. What are you planning to do with them?”

“I think I’ll prepare a list of suggestions and let them chose what they’d be interested in,” Minerva replied. “Maybe I can convince some of my old friends from Transfiguration Today to talk to them about some current developments in the subject too.”

Pomona smiled. “They sound like very lucky students. Perhaps we could set up a portkey and have them all come over here, it would probably be nice for them to get out of Hogwarts once in a while and it definitely wouldn’t hurt to have some young people in the house occasionally. Unless you were set on getting out of the house this way?”

“No, I like that idea. I think some meetings will definitely be at Hogwarts and I think there might be a few field trips I could put together, but holding some meetings here sounds good. And I can show them our rare snails too, by the way. Professor Lovegood says our little tenants really are Celtic sparking snails. She wanted to keep them long enough to show them to her students, but then she’ll send them back to us, since they’ll probably do best where they came from.”

Pomona sighed. “I never thought I’d see the day on which I’d put snails into my garden. Why does the rare magical creature we find just have to be a snail, of all things?”

Minerva laughed. “You’ll survive it and I daresay your plants will too, since they’ve survived it this far.”

 

Minerva handed the last of the plates to Pomona who dried it with a wave of her wand and set it into the cupboard.

“Well, what do you think of my new students?” Minerva asked.

“A bit overeager, but pleasant enough. It really is nice to have young people in the house once in a while, even though Beansidhe seems to disagree.”

“She’ll come out from underneath the bed soon enough once she realises they are gone,” Minerva said, rolling her eyes. “The important thing is that you aren’t getting the urge to hide under the bed too.”

Pomona laughed. “Far from it, don’t worry.”

Minerva wrapped her arms around Pomona and rested her chin on the top of Pomona’s head as Smervie More purred around their legs. “Thank you for suggesting to have them come over here. I do like sharing this with you.”

“So do I. It is so nice to see you back in your element again. I hope you really are more content now?”

Minerva kissed Pomona’s curls. “I couldn’t be happier.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of Pomona’s earthy scent. She might not have thought of retirement even two years ago, but if she had, this would have been exactly what she would have wanted it to be like.


End file.
